


welded

by kurgaya



Series: firestain [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Depression, Don't copy to another site, Family Feels, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Light Angst, Ninken | Ninja Dogs, Original Character(s), Sakumo Lives, Suicidal Thoughts, Tetsu no Kuni | Land of Iron, just a smidge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26249272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurgaya/pseuds/kurgaya
Summary: Sakumo’s grandfather spoke of their clan as legends; as those they had already lost. When Sakumo left Konoha, he remembered those tales. They had seemed foolish then, too, as he dragged Kakashi from everything they’d ever known. But these samurai, these silver-clad hunters who claim the Hatake name in the snow, are legends come to life. If their claim is true, then they are everything to Sakumo. They are hope for his son.[Sakumo Leaves AU. Sakumo's family are gone and his name forsaken. But someone has to watch out for Kakashi and that someone will have to be him].
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi & Hatake Sakumo, Hatake Sakumo & Original Hatake Character(s)
Series: firestain [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951453
Comments: 40
Kudos: 173
Collections: Sakumo Week 2020





	welded

**Author's Note:**

> This story is OC-heavy. If you don't like that, I suggest skipping this. To hopefully avoid confusion with names, Land of Iron samurai have two names - one which they're given when they're born i.e. Sakumo, and one which they earn as samurai. You can think of this name like a title i.e. the White Fang, but there is a bit more to it than that. The birth names of samurai are only used by family or very close friends.
> 
> Written for [sakumoweek 2020](https://sakumoweek.tumblr.com/) day 2: clan.

“They’re still following us, Sakumo,” Mochiko says, snout lifted into the wind. It’s a cold wind, so unlike the breeze of Konoha which is warmed by the hot, summer sun. The Land of Fire sings with leaf flurries and the whisper of woods. It’s a warm country, if a dark one, shrouded by the ever-growing forests and the canopies of their leaves. The sun meets the ground in speckled fire-beams, and Sakumo misses waking with the glitter of them in his eyes. Now, he wakes with ice weeping under his lashes. He’s so cold that he’s not sure he can cry.

Sakumo turns to follow Mochiko’s gaze. Her eyes aren’t the best of his pack, but there’s not much to see. Fields of snow stretch out in every direction, rolling down from the mountaintops to the pine trees on the slopes. It looks like an avalanche frozen in motion, smothering the green and living things. The Land of Fire doesn’t have such plains. It is a wooded country, and hilly, but not at all like this. The Land of Iron rises up into the sky. Mountains guard the horizon wherever Sakumo turns. The Three Wolves Mountains loom more magnificent and terrifying than the rest, and somewhere beneath them is Tenzaburō, the capital of Iron.

It’s been a long trek from Konoha. It can’t be much further, now, if Iron’s samurai are on their trail.

Sakumo hopes so. Tucked inside of his coat is Kakashi, sniffling miserably. His little face presses against Sakumo’s chest, and that’s all of him to be seen. Despite the bundling of layers, he shivers and cries. Sakumo isn’t one to panic, but Kakashi started to cough an hour ago which struck him with primal fear.

He coughs now, wetly into Sakumo’s thermal. Mochiko’s ears flicker at the sound but she keeps her eyes tracked on the horizon. Snow dusts her fur. She was already white, but now she sparkles with it. In the dark of Konoha’s forests, she was a beacon, a bolt of light. Out here in the snow, she could be anything - or anyone.

Sakumo doesn’t have that luxury. The name he earned is the things he’s done: and he’s done terrible things. He can’t escape that, even on the tip of the world. There is peace here, though, and a call of promise. He can hear it like wolves in the wind. It isn’t by chance that he chose the trek to Iron. The White Fang of Konoha may be a name he must endure, but it’s not the only name he will carry to his grave. He’s a Hatake - and he knows his family legends. Iron-blooded, mountain-fallen. Sakumo looks up to the Three Wolves and knows there’s something here for him, for Kakashi, and all that is left of their clan.

“Are you going to let them catch you?” Mochiko asks.

Sakumo may not have a choice. He’s heard rumours of the samurai of Iron. He can't underestimate them. The Land of Iron may not concern itself with shinobi matters, but that doesn’t mind it isn’t capable of defending itself from them. Sakumo is only one shinobi - but that may be one shinobi too many.

He hopes they won't kill him on sight. For Kakashi, if not for himself.

Sakumo ducks his face into his scarf and continues on. Whatever is about to happen - it will happen soon. He cradles Kakashi through his parka, praying that it's soon enough.

The samurai are upon them within the hour. They emerge from the hillside like giants cast in iron, their armour as ferocious and beautiful as the cold. There are only two of them, but Sakumo doesn’t like his chances. Weapons glint at their sides, and lunging between them is a beast of a dog, its lip snarling up over terrible fangs. Mochiko stands her ground, ears flattened. All of Sakumo’s pack can hold their own, but this isn’t the fight he would’ve chosen for any of them. He holds his hand out to still her and prays it isn’t a mistake.

“Hold up, stranger!” commands one of the samurai. They could be beasts themselves, their helmets sharp and horned, and their faces obscured by dark, metallic masks. Every inch of the samurais’ bodies is armoured, and yet they move unheeded in the snow. The armour must be light and strong, and somehow resistant to the cold.

Sakumo can barely feel his fingers through his gloves. He presents his palms in surrender, waiting for the dog to maul him. It doesn’t. It circles Mochiko, darting with an almost puppy-ish energy. Mochiko isn't impressed, all but freezing herself between the samurai and Sakumo, ready to attack at the drop of his hand.

Sakumo isn’t here to fight. He feels Kakashi stir in the sling against his chest. The samurai may not use chakra as shinobi do, but they are both bright with it, and alert. One of the samurai has chakra that twitches under their armour like a storm waiting to explode. Kakashi may only be five, but he’s a genin in every right. He recognises the danger they’re in.

The twitchy samurai reaches for a weapon. Nothing about Sakumo’s appearance suggests that he’s a shinobi, but he is suspicious nonetheless. He is a lone traveller (seemingly) with a wolf at his side, and he must be near the capital city to have engaged the patrol. The calmer samurai is certainly the more experienced of the two, watching Sakumo instead of Mochiko. A person is far less predictable than an animal. The samurai does seem intrigued by Mochiko, however, which isn’t a reaction Sakumo usually sees in his enemies.

“Sweet dog you’ve got,” says the calmer samurai, as though Mochiko’s threat is a frivolous one. “I’m going to go out on a limb and assume she’s only part wolf?”

“Guess again,” Mochiko rumbles, and both samurai startle.

“It spoke!” cries the twitchy one. Their head whips around to their companion. The dog mirrors the movement, still boisterous and fast, and Sakumo realises that it's still a puppy. This is a young handler and their young dog, just as quick-tempered as each other. It seems Iron trains their samurai from an early age, too.

The calmer samurai must be familiar with Twitchy. They throw out their arm before anything reckless occurs. “That’s a neat trick. You’re not from around here, are you?”

Sakumo could lie - but he's a terrible liar. Undercover missions were never his forte. Mahiro was better at that - at everything. He could also tell the truth, but that's only ever led him to trouble. He does neither, dithering around a half-truth while he gauges his need to run. “I hear this is neutral land.”

“From out of town, huh?” Calmer guesses, just as obviously avoiding the question. The fact that Sakumo’s a popsicle is enough of a clue. The Land of Fire has its fair share of snow - but not like this. Sakumo’s breath is cold before it leaves his mouth. It’s no wonder the samurai are masked; if they don’t kill Sakumo, then the weather soon will. They'll just have to leave him here.

“Well, if you’re heading for Tenzaburō, you might not get very far with your wolf.”

Sakumo’s survived this far with no-one but his wolves. He and Kakashi are all that remain of their clan. Sakumo has watched his family dwindle around him. Mahiro, a few years ago. The last of his cousins to illness just the year before. His parents, grandparents, and uncles are all long dead; and his Aunt Hana, the most stubborn of them all, finally faded just months ago after the agonising death of her son. She hadn’t lived to hear of Sakumo’s mission - his failure, the one that now defines them all. He is glad for it, in a twisted way. He fears what she would have said after he dragged another godforsaken war to their home.

Konoha isn’t home anymore. Sakumo isn’t one of Fire’s bravest anymore.

The truth of the matter is, Mochiko’s a summon, and she can leave this world at any time.

(The truth of the matter is, Sakumo’s a human, and he can leave this world at any time).

He presses his hand into Mochiko’s fur, settling her. She’s soft and alive under his touch, and his palm rises and falls with each breath. Her heart pounds as fast as his own. Yet, she is steady despite the fear, despite knowing this may all be for nothing, and that comforts him. Her courage quells something terrible inside of his chest.

“That won’t be an issue," Sakumo says.

Calmer laughs. The metal grates of their mask could be teeth gnashing together. And yet - the laughter is genuine, and so unlike the cruelty of Konoha that Sakumo has come to hear. “I think it’s gonna be an issue,” Calmer says. “Wolves are protected in these parts, you know, and I don’t think you want to have a run-in with the Hatakes.”

Sakumo’s breath catches; he swallows ice.

“The _Hatakes_ ,” he rasps, feeling weak at the knees. Blood drains from his face, and the whiteness in his eyes is numbing relief blurring into snow. Mochiko whines - or maybe Sakumo does, a sob tearing through his ancestral teeth. “They’re here?”

“They’re right in front of you,” says Twitchy. “What’s it to you?”

Sakumo’s grandfather, Yoshino, spoke of their clan as legends; as those they had already lost. He spoke sparingly, but Sakumo listened to every word. He heard tales of a storm-driven family who chased lightning to the ground. He learned of three silver-haired siblings who wolf-smiled at the sky. They came down from the mountain to fields of snow, and with iron and fur they fought for their home. It had seemed so folly to Sakumo then, who knew only of Fire’s vast, summer sun. All he knew of their clan was a family in the shadow of the Nara Forest, and wolves dying amongst the trees. To think their clan hailed from the ice-capped mountains of the north was so far removed from all he had known.

When Sakumo left Konoha, he remembered those tales. They had seemed foolish then, too, as he dragged Kakashi from everything they’d ever known. But these samurai, these silver-clad hunters who claim the Hatake name in the snow, are legends come to life. If their claim is true, then they are everything to Sakumo. They are hope for his son.

“I’m Hatake Sakumo," Sakumo tries, stepping back as Twitchy’s blade slides free. "My grandfather was Yoshino, he used to - please, _please_ -” Snow crunches under his feet and shakes from his clothes. The hilt of Twitchy’s katana is so white, and the blade so silver, that he almost loses track of it against the snow.

“ _You’re_ a Hatake?” Twitchy cries, jabbing the katana in Sakumo’s direction. They’d be better suited for a tantō with a temper like that. Calmer seems to agree as they grip Twitchy’s wrist and force the blade to the ground.

“What? What. You’re not seriously going to believe this guy?” Twitchy snaps, shrugging away. It isn't appropriate to address a superior officer in such a manner, at least in Konoha, but Calmer doesn’t comment.

In fact, the two samurai are quite familiar with each other, and Sakumo gets the impression that Calmer is rolling their eyes. Siblings, perhaps? He can't discern their ages. _Two_ Hatakes of any relation are two more than Sakumo expected to find, and now he can’t help but marvel at their relation to him.

“Can you prove it?” Calmer asks, cementing their namesake.

A Yamanaka could verify Sakumo’s claim. He doubts he’ll find any in Iron. “I have documents,” he says - and chakra. The Hatake chakra is lightning-white; unique within Fire’s borders. He doesn't know if that's the case in Tenzaburō. He’s not even sure Tenzaburō will recognise his official seals. “The family register, my marriage record, Kakashi’s birth certificate. I -”

“Who?”

Kakashi sniffles inside of Sakumo’s coat. The samurai’s dog perks up at the sound and Mochiko matches it with a snarl. Sakumo closes his arms across his chest, cradling Kakashi through the bundles of fabric. Twitchy’s head tracks the hillside, misunderstanding, but Calmer’s helmet glints as they consider Sakumo’s coat.

“My son,” Sakumo pleads. “He’s not well. Please.”

The samurai share a glance. Sakumo can’t read their expressions through their masks at all, but somehow, they reach a decision. Twitchy huffs and sheaths their blade, and then beckons the dog back to their side. It bounces over, all pretence of an elegant hunter vanishing with its puppyish wiggle.

“We’ll take you to Tenzaburō,” Calmer says, and as they turn back towards the city, a familiar crest flashes on their armour. Sakumo has the same one stitched to the back of his shirt. “There’s a clinic in the gatehouse. Your wolf really will have to stay outside though.”

Mochiko’s ears twitch, unimpressed. Sakumo would laugh if he wasn’t halfway collapsing in the snow. He bows with dizzying relief, and the ice on his face warms gently with tears.

"Thank you."

"Don't sweat it," Calmer says. "If you’re family, then we can’t let you keel over out here. And if you're not - we'll see, won't we?"

The stairway up into the gatehouse is barely wide enough for the samurais’ armour. Sakumo is not a particularly tall man, but the low ceilings compel him to duck, and the tight, jagged corners close in around him. The windows are set deep into the wall, almost unreachable, and they only allow a peek into the outside world. Calmer navigates the enclosed space with the experience of someone who has knocked their head many times, but Twitchy bumps into every doorway, cursing all the while. The stairwell up to the second floor is curved and steep, and scratches mark the walls on either side. Calmer laughs as Twitchy heaves a sigh.

“Why don’t you go give our report?” Calmer suggests. “The clinic’s not big enough for all of us, anyway.”

That soon becomes clear. The clinic is a single room with a single bed, and all manner of jars, herbs, and equipment fill the space. There are no windows here, and shelves cram together across every inch of the walls. Spindly plants burst from cracks in the stone. The samurais’ full armour feels too large for this tiny space, but Calmer doesn’t even remove their helmet as they duck inside. In fact, the woman wedged amongst the crates and plants is the first Sakumo’s seen without the silver armour.

"Samurai Kyōsuke! And who’s this? You’ll catch your death in that,” she says to Sakumo, shaking her head at his frost-bitten clothes. Her robe is light brown and she rolls the sleeves up over her elbows as she approaches. “I'm Medic Syuumi. You weren’t out on the mountain in that, were you? There's a good chance - oh."

Sakumo hesitates before knocking back his hood. His face is wet from the icy wind and his hair is as white as the snow on his clothes. Syuumi stares. He doesn't dare interpret the look on her face, untying his coat to reveal Kakashi snuggled inside.

“Can you give them a once-over?” Kyōsuke asks, pointing Sakumo towards the bed.

Syuumi nods numbly. “Of course. I apologise, I didn’t realise you were…” Her gaze lingers on Sakumo’s wolf’s tail hair, but then her eyes drop to Kakashi and she starts. “Oh dear, you don’t look very happy, do you?”

Kakashi glares at her. At some point, he’s pulled down his mask, and his face is a feverish pink. His mouth twists as Syuumi crouches down, and Sakumo is relieved to see his son’s usual, grumpy self in the seconds before Kakashi bursts into coughs. It sounds worse without the muffling of the coat. Sakumo strokes his hair, finding it sticky with sweat. He tries to remain calm.

“He doesn’t like check-ups,” Sakumo supplies, feeling useless. Coughing seems to have exhausted all of Kakashi’s energy, and yet he still finds it in himself to give Syuumi trouble. Sakumo tries to peel him from the makeshift sling, but Kakashi bares his canines and hunkers down.

“It’s all right, I know another little wolf who doesn’t like check-ups,” Syuumi says. “Hatakes are a hazard of the job.”

Kyōsuke laughs. Sakumo doesn’t. He rubs Kakashi’s back, trying to ground himself. He has yet to wrap his head around the thought of a family, and it’s a thought too awful-wonderful to dwell on. The Hatake compound was bright, once, and its gardens rambunctious with wolves. Sakumo doubts he’ll ever return. There is little to return to - except all he’s ever known.

No. Nearly all he knows. Kakashi is the last light of his life, his will-o’-the-wisp. And the nights have been dark. Sakumo was losing sleep long before the blizzards of Iron kept him awake. The whispers that followed him across Konoha were worse than any storm. He would rather the snow; rather perish in it. He doesn’t know what Konoha’s contempt would have come to had he stayed, but if he has to die, then he would rather die safe in the knowledge that Kakashi will live.

The Land of Iron is Kakashi’s best chance. (It is Sakumo’s only chance).

Medic Syuumi prescribes them with plenty of fluids and rest. She scribbles a note for someone named Shizen - who Sakumo imagines he's "supposed" to know - and deems them well enough to continue on. At least as far as the Hatake estate, she explains, and Sakumo's throat closes in fear.

"Ginger tea will help with the cough, or warm water with honey if he won't drink that," she explains, pressing the note into Sakumo's hand. "I suggest you both have a warm shower as soon as you're home. Samurai Shizen will have everything you need."

He nods numbly, cradling Kakashi. The paper flops in his hand, bowing, and Sakumo lowers his head for the second time that day.

 _Home_.

Kyōsuke leads them back out of the gatehouse. More snow has settled, covering the tracks of samurai, animals, and carts through the gate. Mochiko and Twitchy's dog lay near one another, and Mochiko's ears are pressed flat against her head. She has little patience for pups. Twitchy's dog perks up as they approach, and its tail bats Mochiko right across the face.

Kyōsuke tries to tame it. "Stay, wait. No, I said _stay_. How does Fuji do this? You're a menace, aren't you? He won't be long, just wait."

The menace slobbers over Kyōsuke's armour. He shakes his head and tries a hand gesture, and the dog eventually sits. It's not a gesture Sakumo's ever seen the Inuzuka use, but he sympathises with the perils of unruly animals.

"Your wolf - is she tame?" Kyōsuke asks.

Mochiko is a chakra-being, not a wild animal. She cannot be tamed. She's just as sentient as Sakumo, and he glances at her before answering.

"Somewhat."

Kyōsuke's face is still hidden, but he seems to crack a smile. Twitchy - Fuji - vaults down from the gatehouse just a moment later and the dog bursts into hyperactivity again. Fuji beelines over to it, and for the second time, Sakumo notices that Fuji doesn't acknowledge Kyōsuke. Most of the samurai in the gatehouse lowered their heads at Kyōsuke. Some had bowed at the waist, their gloves on the hilts of their swords. Sakumo wonders if the Hatake family here has a hierarchy, and if it's strict like the Hyūga, or more lenient like the Uchiha. Where do Kyōsuke and Fuji fall within it? There seems to be a hierarchy among clans, with the Hatakes presiding over others. Sakumo wonders if 'clan' is even the right word.

He shouldn't assume anything about the Land of Iron. He's not safe here. Kyōsuke's generosity may not be as genuine as it appears. Now, more than ever, Sakumo knows that kindness is temporary.

It hurts to think of Konoha, but he can't help but compare Tenzaburō to his old home. It is a city perched on the mountainside, and as they approach at the lowest level, Sakumo lifts his eyes to the streets in the distance, sloping ever upwards. Snow covers almost every roof, camouflaging the buildings into the sky. It's impossible to see how far the city climbs. Konoha was built to hide amongst the trees, rarely taller than the forests that surround it. The buildings here are short, too, and every one was raised with blackened wood and topped with a grey-tiled roof. Konoha's irregularities is something Sakumo was always fond of. The shops were all shapes and sizes, and no two streets were the same. Here, the roads are uniformly stone, and they clack under Sakumo's feet. Lanterns hang in every doorway, and their flickering reds are some of the only colours to be seen. Alleys dart off in every direction, many barely wide enough for a person. Mochiko's eyes flick to every one, and the eyes of the people they pass flicker to her. Many people have their faces covered with scarves. Symbols dot their coats that mean nothing to Sakumo, but eventually he sees them with enough regularity to conclude they must be clan crests, too. In Konoha, the Uchiha is the only clan that always wears their crest. Here, almost every person is wearing one.

It doesn't seem as though Sakumo's lightning nature will hold much weight here.

They climb through the city for some time. A castle looms into view, high above the trees and the snow. Its many windows glow like fire-light, and its triangular roofs stack in six narrowing levels, each more beautifully decorated as the one beneath. A huge mound of stone elevates the castle even farther above the city. Fortifications replace the rows of houses, and watch-towers line a great, white wall like pine trees. Sakumo is glad when Kyōsuke leads them around the wall, and not within. The castle must be home to this city's Kage, and that's not a person Sakumo wants to meet.

Kyōsuke's leads them to a gateway near the base of the castle walls. Two women guard the entrance, and upon their cloaks are identical, circular crests. They are not as heavily armoured as the samurai, but like most people in the town, cloth masks protect their mouths and noses from the cold. One of the guardsmen has a fur-hood drawn tight around her ears. They acknowledge Kyōsuke and Fuji with a nod. Sakumo feels their eyes follow him through the gate.

The stone pavement fragments into a winding, pebbled path. A garden of untouched snow stretches out from either side, but the path itself has been meticulously cleared of ice. It is a large garden, and small buildings dot the open space. Chimneys puff dark smoke into the sky. Clusters of trees surround the buildings, and a small, frozen pond glimmers in the distance. The pebbled path eventually branches in two a short distance from the gate, and here Fuji and Kyōsuke part ways. The dog trots off after Fuji, and Sakumo, feeling somewhat like a led animal himself, follows Kyōsuke to the end of the garden. A large house appears through the trees, wrapped around the cliff side, in the shadow of the castle. It bears some similarity to the Hatake estate in Konoha with the same sloping, silver-green rooftops, and the Hatake crest above the door. Unlike the estate Sakumo knows, this one is two-storied, and many distant voices suggest it is full of life. The storm-shutters are partly open, gingerly, and light spills from inside the house onto the porch and the snow.

There is a little girl sitting between the shutters, swinging her legs from the porch. She looks about Kakashi's age. Her wavy, white hair looks more like a fur-hood than a hairdo, and someone's best effort at taming it amounts to the pink clip just above her ear.

"Daddy!"

Kyōsuke scoops her up before she rams herself into his armour. She squeals with laughter and latches onto the horns of Kyōsuke's helmet, unafraid of its demonic appearance. "Off, off!" she cries, and Kyōsuke laughs as he tugs the helmet free. He is younger than Sakumo expected. Everything from his eyes, to his smile, and the round of his cheeks is as kind as the voice that gave Sakumo a chance. Unexpectedly, Kyōsuke doesn't have his daughter's ice-white hair, and instead a strawberry-blond ponytail disappears under his armour.

"Heya, ranger," Kyōsuke says. "Did you wander out here by yourself?"

"I was looking for mountain lions!"

"Did you find any?"

She counts on her fingers and then shoves them into Kyōsuke's face. "Four!"

"Four? That's amazing! Did you tell your mum all about it?"

The little girl wraps her arms around Kyōsuke's neck. "No," she says glumly, freckles scrunching around her nose. "She's been in Gran-Gran's room. I had to stay with Izu."

"Well, let's go and tell her now, okay? I've got to talk to Gran-Gran." He hikes the little girl onto his shoulder and then tucks his helmet under his arm. Her smile only widens at the sight of Sakumo and Mochiko, and she calls _hello!_ as Kyōsuke carries her into the house.

Sakumo waggles his fingers in return. Her energy is nothing like Kakashi's. He's not sure how Kyōsuke manages with such a sociable child.

"Let me down," Kakashi demands, kicking free. "I want to see."

It's better not to argue. Kakashi stopped demanding to ride Sakumo's shoulders years ago, and the only reason he's tolerated Sakumo carrying him for this long is because he's sick. It must be strange having an amenable child. Kakashi's rebellious phase is ten years early. Sakumo lets him down but is loath to let him far. Luckily, Mochiko circles close, ready to snap Kakashi from danger at the first sign of trouble.

Kyōsuke doesn't insist Mochiko remain outside this time. That doesn't seem a wise decision on his part, but Sakumo isn't going to complain. Her presence may convince this "Gran-Gran" that Sakumo is telling the truth.

Kyōsuke leads them up a wide staircase and along a corridor. The interior of the house is even more impressive than the outside. Shining, dark wood spans the floors, and huge, geometric lights hang from the ceilings like festival lanterns. Paintings vivify almost every wall, depicting mountainous landscapes and a vast, cold sea. Voices filter through the delicate shoji, and silhouettes depict the daily lives of those who live and work here. Openwork decorates every functional space, and Sakumo recognises the Hatake crest in the repeating diamonds of wood. There aren't many ornaments, but the few that hang in pride of place are weapons, each one beautiful and sharp.

Just as Sakumo starts to lose his way, Kyōsuke sets his daughter down and slides open a heavy door. It takes both hands. Inside, the floor is plush with tatami, and the light is low. Two people look over at once: a young man seated on a cushion at the side of a bed, and in the bed, an elderly woman with golden earrings that frame an unrelenting face. She is easily twice, maybe triple Sakumo's age, and she has the same hooded eyes as his grandfather, and Yoshino's dispassionate gaze.

 _Gran-Gran_ is a deceiving title for such a severe woman.

"I wasn't sure what to expect from Fujikage's tale," she says, beckoning them inside. Her fingers are short and wrinkled, and her skin is deathly white. "I see he wasn't exaggerating this time. Bring your wolf in, too."

Sakumo edges into the middle of the room, Mochiko at his side. Kakashi is all but squashed between them, his hands buried into her fur. Kyōsuke is a supportive presence at Sakumo's other shoulder, even if his armour is blistering ice. The metal chest plate sends goosebumps crawling along Sakumo's skin.

The little girl tugs at Kyōsuke's hand. "Where's mum?"

The other man answers. "She just went looking for you, actually, kiddo. I take it you didn't run in to her?" Beside such a stern woman, his smile sticks out as much as his ears. He is a large man, overweight with happiness. A long, brown robe covers a simple attire, and he has the sleeves tied up above his elbows. He's almost as blond as Jiraiya's prodigy - that Namikaze boy.

Sakumo can't remember the last time he spoke to Jiraiya. The Second Shinobi War brought them together - Sakumo and the Sannin - and elevated them to a heroic status. In many ways, he misses that time. War was all he knew, and he dragged it behind him like a wolf with a kill. Life was cruel and brief, then, but it was worth living. He had family to fight for - friends, a wife. Mahiro's last kiss is blood on his lips, and when he bites them and bleeds, he tastes the cool porcelain of her ANBU mask stealing her away. Orochimaru, too, devoted himself to ANBU, and Sakumo has hardly seen him in the years after the war. Tsunade, he has not seen at all. She turned her back on the village when Kakashi was just a baby, and no-one has heard from her since. Sakumo wonders if she knows of his failure. If any of them do.

Kyōsuke nudges him back to reality. "Give him the note."

The brown-robed man holds out his hand. Sakumo blinks, remembering himself. He hands over Syuumi's instructions, embarrassment draining blood from his face in a wave of ice. Samurai Shizen says something with a big smile, but the words blur to snow in Sakumo's ears.

The tips of his fingers tingle, numb. He's too tired to panic, but he feels it under his skin, waiting. It's warmer in this house than anywhere Sakumo's been for weeks, and he feels it lowering his guard. Shizen and the little girl leave, hand-in-hand, in search of medicine or her mother, or any manner of things Sakumo didn't hear. That leaves Kyōsuke and the elder, and while Sakumo's not sure he could best two samurai right now, he might be able to beat one. He shakes that thought away. Kyōsuke has already shown him more kindness than the shinobi of Konoha combined. Sakumo doesn't want to fight; it's why he left. And yet he's fought his way here, half the world from all he's known, when he could have chosen the easy way out.

Maybe he should have. His mind lingers on ridding himself of this hardship, once and for all.

A small hand clutches at his clothes. Kakashi's gaze remains stubbornly ahead, his face scrunched from annoyance or pain, but his fingers close into the padding of Sakumo's coat. He looks tired. His hair sticks up at an angle from where he was pressed against Sakumo's chest. It's untameable regardless, but now it looks as wild as Kakashi really is. He's a smart boy, if a little rough around the edges. He still bares his teeth at people he doesn't like, wolf fangs hidden behind his mask. One day, that'll land him in trouble. Someone will have to watch out for him.

Sakumo cradles the back of Kakashi's head. It's not quite a hug, but Kakashi leans ever so slightly into his side.

"My grandson tells me you claim relation to our family," says Gran-Gran, watching them with Yoshino's cool gaze. "Come, sit. I want to get a look at you. I am Samurai Yoshihime, but in my home I am Hisa, the head of the Hatake clan. We are a sedentary family. These mountains are our home, and within these mountains we stay. You speak of Yoshino, yes? He left these lands many years ago, never to be heard from again. Until now, I could only speculate what fate befell him. You bear a strong resemblance to him. Turn your face. It was Sakumo, yes? How far have you come?"

"We - ah. We are from Konoha in the Land of Fire."

Hisa's reaction is impossible to gauge. Sakumo is used to the impassivity of his family, but he's never seen it on a face so controlled. Few Hatakes lived long enough to perfect such an authoritative gaze. "I see you have inherited Yoshino's madness as well as his face. Is your entire family shinobi?"

Sakumo's throat closes.

"They're dead," Kakashi says.

Kyōsuke's armour clinks as he winces.

"I see," says Hisa, and the flicker of white eyelashes is all that she moves. She considers them a while longer, her thoughts silent. "You will tell me what happened to them - but tomorrow, after you rest. Naruhito will soon return with the medicines you require and order you to bed. I cannot say if it was bravery that has brought you this far. My brother may have been a fool, but he was an ambitious one. I gather his grandson is much the same."

Sakumo's ambitions are obsolete - but he is most certainly a fool.

"Dad's not stupid," Kakashi snaps. "He's the White Fang."

"The White Fang?" Hisa laughs and it's a startling sound. "A Hatake indeed! And what do they call you, little one?"

Kakashi bites back a cough - or a snarl. "Kakashi. This is Mochiko."

"Sakumo, Kakashi, and Mochiko; three wolves at my door." Hisa smiles, emotion pulling apart her face. Her dark brown lips part and familiar fangs glint between them. Her illusion of fragility breaks like a mask of ice, and Sakumo sees the true extent of her passion. She smiles at him which such triumph that he feels like a Konohan deer cornered in to kill. "I gather you have a reason for travelling all this way - and I gather I will not like it, when I hear it?"

Sakumo would rather she not hear it at all. He sighs, struggling for the words to explain. It's hard to make sense of everything in the past few months when he now isn't sure of anything at all. Konoha's gates are closed to him, but Tenzaburō's are open wide. The Land of Fire is a bridge he has burned, and the Land of Iron is the bridge he will build anew. His wife, his parents, and his sister are gone, but Kakashi remains, and the Hatakes remain.

"I imagine not," Sakumo says; and he may be alive, but he's still not sure he can cry.

**Author's Note:**

> My Hatake family tree has 48 people in it. Somehow I refrained from mentioning _too_ many 😄 I've never written original characters into a story to such a degree before. I understand now why people like making them! I'm so attached 🤗
> 
> Thanks for reading! All comments are appreciated ✨
> 
> In-fic Hatake OCs:  
> \- **Samurai Kyōsuke** : aka "Calmer", a blond-haired ranger and mentor to Fujikage  
> \- **Fujikage** : aka "Twitchy", a teenage samurai-in-training  
> \- Unnamed little girl, Kyōsuke's daughter  
> \- **Hisa / Samurai Yoshihime** : the matriarch, Yoshino's sister, and Sakumo's great-aunt  
> \- **Samurai Shizen** : a medic caring for Hisa
> 
> Mentioned Hatake OCs:  
> \- **Yoshino** : Sakumo's grandfather, who left the Land of Iron and travelled to the Land of Fire (deceased)  
> \- **Mahiro** : Sakumo's wife (deceased)  
> \- **Hana** : Sakumo's aunt (deceased)  
> 


End file.
